PFLAG Fosters Acceptance

A staunch spiritual leader in a conservative church in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, he suddenly found himself confronting something that had once been inconceivable.

After finally sharing the truth about his sexuality with his mother, Robert’s son, then in his early 20s, decided it was time to talk to his father. But he was so worried about his father’s reaction that he let his mother break the news.

"She was the one who actually agreed to ‘out’ him to me," Robert said. "My reaction was, unfortunately, not unlike many parents when they find out their child is homosexual. I wasn’t thinking about his feelings. I was only thinking about me."

What will people in church think, he wondered. What would friends think of him?

"I think he (the son) was so scared that I would reject him, and I suppose in some ways he had every reason to worry," Robert said. "I was at the time, I’ll admit, a pretty closed-minded person. I thought a lot of things were black and white."

These days, Robert and his wife, Ann, are founding members of Abilene’s Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG), the second such group the couple has helped create. The first group was formed with other parents in the DFW Metroplex.

Robert and Ann’s son lives in Austin. The couple wished to use only their first names to protect other family members living in Abilene from "harassment by those who don’t understand," they said.

PFLAG, a group with members worldwide, gives gay, lesbian and bisexual people a place where they can feel comfortable and talk about their feelings and struggles. The group also attempts to foster a sense of tolerance and understanding in the wider community.

Abilene’s PFLAG organization is young, less than 3 years old. In that time, it has grown from a small group of concerned people to an organization that is finding its community voice.

Local PFLAG members are proud of their increasingly public presence in Abilene.

"We’re very slowly becoming more public, more open," said Thomas Squiers, 27, the organization’s outgoing president.

PFLAG as a worldwide organization was born in 1972, following furor over a public attack on a gay activist in New York. The first formal meeting was in 1973.

The group boasts more than 80,000 members and supporters, and has affiliates in more than 460 communities throughout the United States and abroad.

The local chapter is fully chartered and recognized.

The approximately 20 members of the Abilene chapter, most of whom wish to remain anonymous because of fear of retribution or ridicule, comprise a wide variety of people.

Robert and Ann are parents. Other members work with local HIV/AIDS organizations. Most of the participants are gay, bisexual or transgendered — people who feel they were born the wrong sex.

"I think we all dream of a day when everyone can just be who they are and not have to live in fear of ridicule, physical harm or other hurts," Ann said. "PFLAG serves a very important role in the community because it gives both people who are relatives and friends and people who are gay a place where they can interact without fear."

Small beginnings

Initially, the local PFLAG chapter was a place primarily for gays, lesbians and others to congregate in a private setting, away from prying eyes.

Things are changing.

In October, seven of its members went to the Alan Ross Freedom Parade, a massive gay pride march in Dallas, an experience Squires said was "truly a coming out experience for our organization." A Dallas radio station interviewed Squiers at the event, asking him about what it is like to be gay in a conservative community.

"There were a million people who turned up for that event, and there were several people from Abilene who aren’t PFLAG members who traveled to see the parade," he said. "Some of those individuals came running into the streets to give us hugs for representing them. Several people who used to live in Abilene greeted us. And a couple who used to live in Abilene saw us marching and came up to us halfway through the parade and marched with us."

A group from Abilene Christian University also recognized the local organization and cheered on its members, Squiers said.

While attending a parade may not seem like a big deal to outsiders, it was a profound experience for those involved in the organization, Squiers said.

"That was really a big step for many of us to go to such a public event," he said. "It was incredibly liberating."

The organization has had a few public events and fundraisers locally to help it buy supplies, literature and other resources for its activities.

Recently, the group began selling hot chocolate at the city’s monthly Artwalk festival, mostly to raise awareness about the organization. In May, the group raised about $600 at a yard sale.

Last year, the group had its first Pride/Family Day Picnic. This year’s picnic featured a silent auction, in which local businesses donated items and services.

The increasing public presence represents a new chapter in the group’s growth, said the organization’s incoming president, Jay, who like Robert and Ann wished to use only his first name.

"I have lived all of my life in Abilene, and I have been pleased to see some real changes lately," said Jay, 27. "When I was growing up, Abilene wasn’t a very accepting or even tolerant community. Now, things are changing. We haven’t done a 180-degree turnaround, but I believe it’s coming, and I want to help make certain it happens."

Personal struggles

Most people become involved with PFLAG for specific reasons, often after long years of personal fear and uncertainty.

Squiers remembers being 14, a small-town boy from Eastland taught to fear hell. He also remembers leaders at church camp assuring him that’s where all gay people are destined to go.

Squiers, who works for an Abilene insurance company, vividly recalls huddling with fellow campers in Lueders, listening with spellbound interest as camp leaders began spelling out definitions of right and wrong for the assembled youth.

He remembers the day as the moment he truly met himself for the first time.

"They sat us all down and began talking to us about what sexual immorality is and why we shouldn’t even consider engaging in it," he says. "I had always been taught gay people were an abomination, that it was wrong and a sin, so it wasn’t surprising that they started talking about homosexuality."

Instead of righteous revulsion, what filled Squiers’ mind and soul that day was the beginning of an understanding that would become a long and winding road to self-acceptance.

"I realized what they were describing was what I was," he said. "I realized I was a homosexual, and I was scared to death. But I also felt like I understood myself when before I never could."

Squiers’ family is still somewhat reluctant to accept him as a gay man, although progress has been made, he said. He credits PFLAG as being a refuge that helped him accept his own sexuality and his family’s reluctant walk toward understanding.

"It’s been a slow, steady process," he said. "My mother can admit that she has a gay son, but is ‘still trying to cope with it.’ " Squiers and his partner recently attended a Thanksgiving meal in Lipan that gave him much hope.

"My brother-in-law, who is a preacher, prayed, ‘Dear God, help us to understand the differences among each of us and help us to love each other despite those differences.’ I’ve never heard a prettier prayer coming from the lips of a Baptist minister before in my life," Squiers said.

Other people, such as Robert and Ann, joined PFLAG because they wanted to either support the gay and lesbian community or had personal ties to it.

Ann found literature with homosexual themes in her son’s bedroom. She didn’t wait long to ask her son if he was gay.

"It didn’t change the way I felt about him, although I think he was certainly worried that I or his father would stop loving him," she said. "I didn’t feel that way at all. He’s my son, and nothing will ever change that."

Within days, Robert also learned the truth.

"As I said, the questions almost immediately began to well up," he said. "I felt that I had to know more, but I was scared, too."

Robert was forced to confront his fears and his comfortable theological stances.

"I was essentially forced to take a very hard look at myself," he said. "Before, you would have never convinced me that I had any prejudices, but I started looking at what I believed and soon had to come to the conclusion that I was very wrong."

A place of acceptance

A typical PFLAG gathering consists of much of the minutiae that makes up any club meeting, but the heart and soul of the meetings is the "rap" session. Members and visitors can freely discuss their worries, hopes and fears in a roundtable setting.

"This is so comforting," a prospective member said at one meeting after sharing her difficulties in getting her family to understand her sexual preference. "I feel like I’ve stumbled into a group of friends."

That is the atmosphere the group wishes to foster, said Jay, the group’s incoming president.

"While I was growing up, my siblings and I were raised to respect all people," he said. "My mother is gay, so being gay in our family wasn’t something traumatic."

Jay said he has watched gay people and their family members struggle with their sexuality for far too long.

"My hope is that we can serve as an educational outlet," he said. "I find that most prejudice comes from a lack of good, unbiased information."

Rachel Smith, who works with Big Country AIDS Resources, a local group that offers educational services for people interested in learning more about HIV and AIDS, became interested in PFLAG after her job put her in touch with people in the gay community.

"As I became better acquainted with those individuals, I became aware of the prejudices they face, sometimes from their own families," she said. "It really opened my eyes, and I knew that I wanted to do something to help increase awareness and understanding."

PFLAG at the national level produces educational materials for gay people, their friends and families. Topics include everything from how to come out to one’s family to coping with learning a family member is gay.

"From an entirely personal standpoint, although I don’t know anyone in my family who is gay now, I just started to think about the children in my family and the sort of world I want to see them live in," Smith said. "I want them to have a world that’s safe for everyone to be who they are, without fear."

While that goal may be a long way off, it’s something many PFLAG members see on the horizon.

"We’re moving to Austin to be with our son, probably by March," Robert said. "But we truly hope that Abilene’s PFLAG continues to grow and becomes a strong presence here in this community. It’s sorely needed."

The group recently moved to new meeting quarters at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church on Vogel Avenue after meeting at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship on Sayles Boulevard. Jim Turkett, senior warden at St. Mark’s, said the church knew the group needed a larger place to meet and felt it was a "calling" to help.

"We love everyone, and thus we felt that it was our calling to help them," Turkett said. "We’re always interested in helping provide a place for organizations to meet, and the vestry made the decision to open our doors to PFLAG."

Jay plans to ensure the organization is strong in the coming years, adding he is pleased to see the group growing.

"We’re only just beginning, really," he said. "My hope is that someday we won’t need an organization like PFLAG because tolerance and acceptance will just be the norm. Until that time, we’re willing to do what we can to increase people’s understanding of what it means to be gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered, and to offer support and hope to anyone who needs it."